Being Normal
by Yma
Summary: Are the X-men a group of Superheros somhow traped in a fake (but all too lifelike) world, or are they a group of mixed up institutionalised but normal kids living desperate fantasy lives? Look inside to see! Chapter 3 now up! RnR please!
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer

The characters and setting of this story belong to Marvel and the people who create the X-Men Evolution cartoon. Not me. Ditto for all the other chapters following this. Also, the line at the beginning of each chapter is quoted/paraphrased from a Chinese poet Chuang Tzil. Please tell me what you think of my story, here we go!  

**Being ****Normal******

By Yma

Part 1

__Am I a man…__

            The day Margaret Richardson waked through the doors of the Xavier Institute; she knew she had left the normal word behind.

            It was a larger, plusher building than she had expected, more of a mansion than an institute, with large, brightly lit rooms, and long, twisting corridors.       

            The woman who had shown her in, Miss Monroe, was a pleasant enough lady, with dark skin and pure white hair, and, as soon as her parents left, she had shown Margaret into the main common room of the institute, where most of the other residents were gathered. 

            They looked more or less like any other group of teenagers; Margaret would never have guessed their differences at first glance.  

            'Lucky!' the nurse called sweetly and a gothic girl with short, black hair ambled towards them. 

            'Lucky,' introduced Miss Monroe, 'this is Margaret; she'll be staying here for a while. Would you please show her around and introduce the other residents?'

            'Sure, Miss Monroe,' was the reply, as Lucky took Margaret's hand and led her further into the common room, whilst Miss Monroe left, going about her other duties.

            'So, you're new here, eh? Well, my name's Lucky, no, don't laugh, I know it's stupid, but there is it. So Margaret, what's your problem?'

            'Excuse me?' said Margaret, feeling a little overwhelmed. Lucky seemed to be a full on conversationalist, rushing straight in on a discussion, rather than easing in, as most people did. She certainly wasn't shy. 

            'Your problem, you know, why you're here? Mine was my temper, couldn't keep it in check, and I had a few other mental problems which I'd rather not go into now, but hay, I'm getting better now, thanks to Doctor Xavier. That's why where all here, isn't it? So that Dr Xavier can make us better, cure whatever's messing up our minds. So, what's up with your head?'

            Margaret felt herself blush, insecurity taking over, clamping her stomach, 'I hear voices,' she whispered at last, 'that and depression, but I'm not dangerous or anything!'

            'Course not, love,' soothed Lucky, 'none of the people here are, and there's no need to be embarrassed about your problem. One of the most important things Dr Xavier says is that we've got to talk about our difficulties, share them. That way he can diagnose what's wrong, and provide a cure, or something like it, anyway.' 

            'Uh huh,' 

            Margaret's voice was still full of doubt and shyness; one hand twirled a lock of red hair. 

            'Look, let me introduce you to some of the others,' said Lucky at last, hoping to draw the girl out of her shell a bit. She pointed to a tall boy with shoulder length, dark hair

            'That,' she began, 'is Craig; he's got similar problems to me, really short temper. Don't piss him off. And he,' she pointed to a grossly fat boy, 'is Billy, he's got some sort of eating problem, can't stop. The dirty boy over there, the one with the pale brown hair, that's Neal, he's got some sort of Hydrophobia, can't stand baths. Don't breath in too deeply when you're around him. The thin kid, the one with the blonde hair, he's Jacob, gets these strange sieges, some sort of hyperactive thing, can't stay still for too long.'

            'And what about those five, over there?' Margaret gestured to a group of five teenagers, sitting together in a corner of the room. 

            'Those, well, those are the X kids.'

            'The X kids?'

            'Their term, not mine,' said Lucky hastily, 'see, they all came here because of their separate problems, but they've sort of made this, ah, group. They have this weird disorder, it's kind of complex. See, you know those interfic things, where there are these people and they each start to write part of a story until you've got this entire plot going, right?'

            'Er… yeah.'

            'Well, it's kinda like that. The boy with the blind-fold, Thomas, was the first, the one who started it. He made up this entire world, and then drew all the others into it, making them think they're someone else.'

            Margaret's face was a picture of puzzlement. 

            'It's like this; they think that they're these people, these superheroes, each with their different abilities and stuff. They actually believe this, mind you, believe they're these superheroes, and that they're just being held here against their will or something.'

            'Wow, weird,' murmured Margaret.

            'Too right, and that's not all. They try to include us in it too. They have place for practically all of us in their little fantasy world. They call me Wanda, apparently in their little story I have powers over chance or something. They even use the Doctors in it, in their little fantasy Dr Xavier is this sort of leader, and Miss Monroe is this woman who can control the weather and stuff. It's really weird; you should stay away from them.'

            'I should?'

            'Yeah, see this mental problem is sort of contagious, Dr Xavier says it only affects a certain sort of mind but, if I were you, I wouldn't spend too much time with them. Dr Xavier still isn't sure how to cure them, they won't talk to him properly, see?'

            'Oh.'

            'Look, just make sure you don't get drawn in, they'll try to do that, tell you that you're this character in their little world. If you let them, they'll turn you into one of them, if not then you only become a background role, like me, or Jacob, or Craig. OK?'

            Margaret nodded, already feeling anxious about meeting the strange teenagers.

            'Come on,' said Lucky, eager to leave the scene, 'I'll show you around.'

Margaret allowed herself to be tugged along, as Lucky led her around the institution, pointing out the various rooms. It was all so weird, the strange kids back there had reminded Margaret how different things were, and the echoing halls of the Mansion made her feel alone. The entire situation was so unreal… 

            It was funny, one day she was a perfectly normal teenager, a good achiever at school, with a loving, reasonably well off family, the next day she was hearing strange voices. Then, just like that, her parents whisked her away from normality into the Xavier Institute for Specially Minded. A sort of loony bin where you got a chance at counselling. At first she thought that was all it was, a sort of short holiday break, where she'd talk to some psychiatrist, and leave in a few weeks with all her problems sorted. But seeing those kids back there, seeing how messed up some of them were, it reminded her where she was, how bad she must be to get sent here! 

            Maybe I really am a freak, she thought glumly.

            Suddenly, she thought she heard an echo of laugher in the shadowy halls, turning she saw a flash of white, a trailing skirt and a bare leg, running round the corner. 

            'Who was that?' she asked.

            'What?' said Lucky.

            'I thought I saw a girl running round the corridor.'

            'Oh, maybe it's one of the Dr's new charges, he brought a load of kids in a few months ago. You'll probably see them here and there, I'll introduce you later. Now, on our left-'

            Margaret let Lucky's voice fade into the background, as she pondered the strange mysteries of this institute, and what the future held for her here. 

            It was dinner time, and the residents of the Institute were gathered in the cafeteria, gobbling down the food, which was (amazingly) not too bad. 

            Lucky and Margaret were among the last to arrive, and Lucky went on ahead to a table with Jacob, Craig, Billy and Neal, whilst Margaret pondered over her dinner choices. 

            She was just about to find a table when a voice behind her said, 'you're the new girl, right? Care to sit with us?'

            She turned to see the blind-folded boy, holding a tray in one hand, and a walking stick in another. He gave her a friendly smile, she wondered how he knew she was new.

            'I heard you ask questions to the Cafeteria lady about the food,' he explained, as if guessing her questions, 'and we've all heard about a new girl coming, so I put two and two together. Anyway, you want to sit with us?'

            Margaret felt nerves clamp her stomach, suddenly she was no longer hungry. She turned towards where Lucky and the others were eating, Lucky nodded at her, as if encouraging her to join the blind boy. Well, she might as well get this over with.

            'OK,' she breathed at last, 'my name's Margaret Richardson, by the way.'

            Even with the blindfold on, she could see the boys eyes widen, 'Jean?' he gasped.

            'Excuse me?'

            'Uh, just come with me. God, Jean, I thought you'd escaped or something, guess he got you, too?'

            'What? I don't understand, I've never-'

            'Just sit with us, OK? You're memories will come back soon, it'll just take a bit of prompting.'

            Perhaps it was confusion, perhaps it was stupidity, or perhaps she was just curious, but Margaret allowed herself to be led by the blind boy, to a table where the other four other teenagers sat.

            Now she was closer, she could examine them properly. There was a petite girl, with a brown pony tail, a dark boy with strangely styled, blond hair, another, brooding girl, with two white streaks in her red-brown hair. And finally there was a slender, dark headed lad, who sat cramped up in his chair, and picked at his food morosely. 

            'Hay, guys,' called the blind boy, 'it's Jean!'  

            The pony tailed girl leaped up and hugged her like an old friend, 'Jean,' she gasped, 'I'm so glad you're here!'

            'What's the last thing you can remember?' asked the dark boy eagerly.

            'I… I don't know, my name's Margaret, I don't know about any Jean.'

            'Of course not,' soothed the pony tailed girl, 'you're, like, still a bit brainwashed or something, but don't worry, it'll all come back to you.'

            'Yeah,' agreed the blind boy, 'here, let me remind you. I'm Scott, Scott Summers? Right? That's Kitty Pryde, that's Kurt Wagner, and those are Evan and Rogue. Remembering now?'

            'Erm…' in truth the names were new to Margaret, though there was something, perhaps…

            She mentally shook herself, no, she wasn't going to fall into this trap, she was Margaret Richardson, and she had never met these people in her life before, she had to keep reminding herself that if she wanted to get out of this loony bin before she was seventy.

            'What did they get you in for?' asked the striped girl who had been introduced as Rogue, she had a southern accent, 'no, let me guess… paranoia? Hearing voices?'

            Margaret gasped, 'how did you-'

            'Our problems, as Xavier likes to put it, seem to be linked to our powers or personalities,' explained Scott, 'I apparently suffer from delusions, Kurt's the same, but is also terminally shy and has multiple personalities. Rouge's got this phobia of touching people, and so on. As you're a telepath it's only logical they should claim that you're hearing voices.'

            'Powers? Telepathy? I don't understand.'

            'Let's recap, we're the X-men, we were born with these abilities, powers. Remember?'

            Margaret gave him a cynical look, but found herself oddly intrigued, 'well,' she said, 'if we have these powers, why can't we use them.'

            'We do,' whispered Scott anxiously, 'but it doesn't work, or it kind of works, or something. It's hard to explain.' 

            'It's like use them, but no one notices,' said the dark haired boy, Kurt, speaking for the first time. Margaret noticed he had a German accent.

            'Like, once I was teleporting,' he continued, 'and I could have sworn I did it, I went from the counselling room, to the Common room, then suddenly it was like I was teleported back, and I was in front of Prof-Doctor Xavier again. And he said I hadn't left the spot, but I "know" I teleported, I –know- it!'

            There was deep despair in the boy's voice, and Margaret resisted the urge to reach over and comfort him, he looked so dejected.

           -Definitely delusional- thought part of Margaret, and she would have been tempted to laugh at Kurt's claims of teleportation, had it not been for the pity welling in the heart. 

            'That's why I ware this blind fold,' continued Scott, 'to keep my optic blasts in check, and it's why Rouge wears her gloves, so she won't touch anyone by mistake. I'm not sure how this works, but I don't want to take the chance of hurting anyone, powers or no.' 

            'Uh, right,' said Margaret nervously, once again feeling a little unsure. 'Any way', she continued, 'I'll just, er, go back and sit with Lucky for a bit, I promised I would, for, ah, showing me round the place and stuff. Um… see you later!'

            'Jean,' cried Scott, grabbing hold of her sleeve, 'don't go, please! We need you're help, with your telepathic abilities perhaps we can find out what's going on!'

            'I… well…I don't want to, I've got people over there and I, er, I…'

            'Look,' said Scott, letting go of her sleeve and calming down, 'if you want at the moment, that's fine. Just come back to us later, OK? You know we're telling the truth, talk to us when you feel ready.' 

             'Alright,' agreed Margaret, nodding, but silently vowing to stay away from the weirdoes for as long as possible. 

As she turned and left, she could not help but hear the one of the others, the one known as Evan, speak.

            'Do you think she'll come back Scott?'

            'Yes,' was Scott's reply, 'she will, she has to.' 

            'Well,' said Lucky when Margaret returned, 'what do you think?'

            'They seem like OK people,' she replied carefully, 'but they're, ah…'

            'Weird?'

            'Yeah,' said Margaret, relieved. Calling people crazy in a nuthouse seemed a bit… redundant.

            'But they seem nice, though,' continued Margaret, 'I quite liked Scott.'

            Lucky raised a slender eyebrow, 'you mean Thomas, that's his real name, Scott's just the persona he created.'

            Margaret fiddled nervously with her food, 'sorry,' she said, 'but I think they only introduced themselves by their personas, I don't know their real names.'

            'Alright then,' shrugged Lucy, 'I'll introduce you. The one who calls herself Kitty is actually Jenny, the one who calls himself Evan is actually Adam. The girl with the stripe who calls herself Rouge, her real name's Suzy, and the one who claims he's Kurt, his real name's Benjamin.'

            'Oh, is he from Germany, he seemed to have a German accent.'

            Lucky snorted, 'yeah, that's what we all thought. But it's only his persona that's German. Benjee spent a couple of years there, picked up a bit of the lingo, and used it to create his persona. God, there's one really mixed up kid.' 

            'Huh?'

            'Let me put it this way, you think it's weird for a guy to pretend that he's got laser blasts coming out of his eyes? Wait 'till you learn more about Benjamin's persona. Course, it's his mother I feel sorry for. See that nurse over there?'

            Lucky pointed to a slender, red haired woman in nurses uniform helping to dole out food.

            'That's Benjamin's mother, Mrs Darkholme. She transferred her a few days after Benjamin came, but for some reason she was cast in a bad guy role. They all think she's this uber bitch, an evil shape-shifter. Benjamin, or should I say Kurt, still believes she's his mother, but thinks that she abandoned him when he was a baby, now he hates her. Sick, huh?'

            Margaret shivered, and picked at her food. She could barely imagine such a situation, but did not tell Lucky that, although she was repulsed by their strangeness, and frightened by their strange fantasy, she could not deny a strange, almost morbid, fascination. She knew, however, that if she followed it up, she would be playing with fire. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: No, this isn't mine. See part 1 for more detail

Notes: Yep, I'm new, sorry about the lack of notes on the previous one but I'm still getting used to this. I've gotten rid of indenting at the beginning of paragraphs, yeah, I know it's not strictly correct, but the indents look weird in this format. 

A quick note on rating, which I should have mentioned in chap 1, just so there's no misunderstanding, this story does contain a little swearing, but it's all in-context and most of it is fairly mild. Just so you know. 

Any way, I'm hoping you like this and will be eager to give in reviews, the more I get the faster I'll post the next chapter, so if you read, please, please, please review. 

Part 2

__...dreaming I'm a butterfly?_

It was morning, and the lazy sunlight leeched through the window of Margaret's bedroom window. She yawned and stretched, allowing herself to forget, for a moment, where she was. 

When she finally did remember, she checked her clock, it was 10:30 in the morning, obscenely late for her, but everyone was allowed a lie in every now and then weren't they? 

She tried to remember what was happening that day. Dr Xavier had wanted her to report to Dr McCoy for a physical check up, and then she would move on to some physiological analysis. 

She sighed and pulled on her clothes, brushed her long red hair, and marched downstairs for breakfast. 

After she finished her meal of bacon and eggs, she followed the first part of her time-table, meeting with Dr McCoy. 

The man in question turned out to be a large, dark headed guy, with a lively attitude and friendly demeanour. When she entered he was looking over one of the 'X' kids, Benjamin, AKA Kurt. 

It seemed like quite an odd experiment was going on, Dr McCoy seemed to be tapping the air around an area just by Benjamin/Kurt with a hammer. And, though his hammer seemed to be meeting nothing, the dark headed boy was wincing with pain.

'Fascinating,' murmured the Doctor, 'totally visualized even to the pain level. Quite extraordinary. Ah Miss Richardson,' he exclaimed, suddenly noticing her, 'please wait a moment, I'm almost finished here.'

He put the hammer down and scribbled down some notes on a clip board. 

'Right, Benjamin, I'm basically finished up with you now, you can go. I'll be with you soon, Miss Richardson, I just want to type up some notes.'

He wandered away, clip board in hand, into a small office. 

Margaret jumped onto the edge of the hard bed whilst Benjamin/Kurt put his shirt back on. She hadn't meant to say anything to the strange boy until a mixture of nerves and curiosity prompted her to ask, 'Just what was Dr McCoy doing to you, before?'

'He was tapping my tail,' replied Benjamin/Kurt nervously, 'to see if I felt pain.'

'Tail?' gasped Margaret, hardly believing what she was hearing. 

'Ja, my perso- I mean _I _have a tail, but no one can see it. I was just showing Dr McCoy that I felt pain when he taps it. I thought it might be proof but it seems like he's just writing it off, like every other piece of evidence we've given him.'

Margaret couldn't quite believe what she was hearing; the guy was claiming to have a tail! It was ridiculous, it was absurd, and yet… it wasn't. 

Still, the boy was obviously mixed up, and Margaret felt pity rise up in her throat once again, how damaged would a soul have to be to make up such a strange persona? 

Benjamin/Kurt must have caught her look, because he looked at her with a glint of resentment in his eyes. 

'It's OK,' he said, 'I know I'm right, Scott says that we'll figure a way out of this soon, then everything will be OK. I just hope he finds a way out of it soon, I don't know how much of this I can…' His voice faded into silence.

Margaret found herself putting an arm round him, something about the boy demanded comfort. She noticed that his hands were in an odd position; their fingers seemed to be stuck in the Vulcan salute. 

He noticed her looking and said 'it's because I've only got two fingers. None of the others say they see four, but I only see two. I don't understand it, either.'

'It's OK,' said Margaret, trying to sound soothing, 'it'll be fine.' 

'Ja, it will be now you're here, Jean, you've always been the calm one, you can make anyone feel better.'

His words disturbed Margaret a little, and she moved her arm from around his shoulders. 

'Look,' he said, understanding her movement, 'I know you think this is all a little weird, now. But soon you'll remember who you are, just like all of us did. Just… just meet up with us for a bit, have a chat. Then you'll see.'

There was such hope in the boy's voice that she felt a sudden rush of guilt, and pity. How could she say no to a tone like that? Besides, if she learnt something she could pass it onto Dr Xavier, which might help him analyse the problem better. Anyway, she was curious, he seemed to certain that he knew her, so sure… she almost felt as if she knew him, because of it. 

'Alright,' she said at last, 'when do you want to meet? At dinner?'

'Nein, best we do it in secret, without being constantly watched. I'll come for you tonight, in your room, and then I'll take you to the others.'

'But how?'

Kurt/Benjamin's face split from its previously dour expression into a mischievous grin, 'you don't need to teleport to find my way from place to place without being seen. Not if you know it well enough, at least. I'll see you tonight, bye Jean!'

With this he jumped down off the hard bed and practically skipped off, away back into the mansion. Margaret could not help but wonder what she had got herself into.  

McCoy's physical tests were merely to confirm her general health, and so rather boring. Dr Xavier's tests went in a similar fashion, too. He had checked a few things with her, asked her a few questions on how she had been settling in, and that was all. 

So now she lay in bed, the day having gone quickly and smoothly. Her eyes were just drooping when a husky German accent spoke from the darkness.

'Gutten aubun mien freund.'* 

Jean choked back a scream as the friendly face of Kurt/Benjamin appeared above her. 

'Told you I could get around from place to place without being seen,' he laughed, 'come on, the others are waiting.' 

She watched as he, clad only in PJ's, opened one of the air ducts and climbed in. Slipping on a dressing gown, and feeling more than a little apprehensive, Margaret followed.

After much crawling and sprawling through the twisting ducts which Kurt/Benjamin seemed to know like the back of his hand they finally reached their destination.

It seemed they had taken refuge in one of the many sub-basements of the institute, and they sat crouched there, with only some battery torches for light. 

'Jean!' cried Kitty/Jenny, and gave the astonished Margaret a hug.

'Glad you could make it,' said Scott/Thomas, 'take a seat, this must seem strange, it'll take a while to beat the programming, but soon you'll start to remember, trust us.' 

'OK,' said Margaret, fiddling with the edge of her nightgown nervously, 'well, start talking.'

'Right, well, I'll start from the beginning. My name is Scott Summers, when I was very young both my parents were killed in a plane crash, and only I and my brother survived-'

'So I grew up in with the Wagners, and I worked in a Der Jahrmarkt, the circus, doing acrobatics and trampoline, it vas wunderbar, I loved the attention of the crowd.'

'Funny, I mean, I'd of thought you're appearance would have given you plenty of attention,'

'Ja, Jean, but there is attention and attention, it's like the difference between flying and falling. But any way, the day my powers developed-'

'Ah was just kissing him, and it's… it's indescribably, like ah was just… taking part of him, sucking him into me. Ah don't remember the details, but ah couldn't stop, ah was just so terrified, and when I did he was… he was in a coma.' 

'That's dreadful,' gasped Margaret/Jean, 'how did you're parents react, did you join the X-men then?'

'Ha, no way honey, ah was way too scared. No, ah went looking for help in all the wrong places. See-'

'After that business with Lance I, like, was totally ready to give you guys a try. I mean, you and Scott, like, totally freaked me out at first, but, you know, the Professor's got some really good ideas, and he calmed me down. And it offered me a place to develop our powers, right?'

Jean/Margaret nodded, 'but it's tough, right?'

'Too right! Training in the morning, training in the evening, training, training, training! But it makes us tough, I guess, and boy, with all the things we face, we need to be tough. Remember when-'

'I mean, reading Shakespeare to a huge, blue monster! I'd never thought I'd seem myself doing that! One of the scariest moments in my life, but it got us Dr McCoy, the REAL McCoy, that is. Not the phoney that keeps running round here. Any way, another scary time was when you won that award and then lost control of your powers, remember?'

'Oh yes,' laughed Jean, 'I was totally out of it, all those voices in my head, I think I trashed half the mansion!' 

'_I! _You said _I_, Jean, do you remember now? Is that you?'

'Why… yes, yes I do remember! I'm Jean Grey! I'm Jean Grey!'

Jean leaped forward, hugging Evan, and he hugged back, whilst around them Kurt, Rouge, Kitty and Scott whooped and crowed in joy. The X-Men were reunited once again. 

'Have you got any idea what's happening here, Jean?' asked Scott.

They had calmed down now, and were once again sitting in a circle, with Jean at the head, the subject of attention. She cradled her head in one hand, a thoughtful expression on her face. 

'No, before you started reminding me, I honestly thought I was Margaret Richardson, it was as if… as if all my memories had been covered up by a sheet on new memories, and you had to remind me of the old ones so I could remember them, and ignore the new ones, if that makes sense.' 

'Ja,' nodded Kurt, 'it was similar for all of us, though not as complete. You, as Margaret Richardson, seem to have a full set, from childhood, I only remembered the false life of Benjamin Darkholme for a few months before I came here. Dr Xavier claimed I had amnesia from a nervous break down.'

The last sentence was spoken in tones of anger and bitterness. 

'We were hoping,' continued Scott, 'that you would know something, that your telepathic powers would be working.' 

'I… I don't know if they are,' Jean replied, 'I have had some telepathic experiences, I think, hence the excuse about hearing voices, but I don't know about my telekinesis. I've not really tried to use either ability since I came here, wherever here is.'

'Well,' prompted Rouge, 'now's as good a time to try as ever.' 

Jean nodded, and concentrated on one of the battery torches lighting the room. She strained and strained, eventually it moved upwards, levitating a few inches off the ground. Then, exhausted, she allowed it to drop, back onto the hard concrete floor.

'That's not good,' she said, 'I only moved it upwards a few inches, and that happened with a lot of concentration, I should have been able to make it fly across the room.'

Kitty looked concerned, 'that's odd, our powers work, or appear to work, just fine. Or at least they do to ourselves and each other, but like Kurt said before, everyone else denies their existence, and even their effects don't properly work.' 

'It's like… someone's been rearranging the universe around us each time we use our powers,' said Rogue, 'Scott blasts a hole in a wall or something, but no one sees it, and a few seconds later the wall's as good as new. It's weird.'

'What about your telepathy, Jean, have you tied that?' asked Evan.

Jean closed her eyes and concentrated, yes, she could hear them. Hear their confusion, their fear, their worry. 

She said as much, and the others looked relieved.

'Perhaps you should try that against one of the others,' suggested Scott, 'one of the reasons why you've been better programmed might be that you represented more of a threat. If you scan them then we may work out what exactly they want.'

'Who cares what they want?' cried out Kurt, 'they're probably trying to experiment on us or something! We need to escape. Tell her about the plan, Scott.'

'The details of it aren't important, but we need you help. Tomorrow afternoon there will only be two adults supervising us for lunch, nurse Dalkholme, and the security guard, Logan.'

'Logan's a security guard here?'

'Yeah, fitting huh? Any way, that's when we're going to try to escape, we can take out Dalkhome easily, and steal her keys, but Logan's going to be a problem. So, tomorrow act like you still think you're Margaret Richardson, and at lunch, at 12:45, try to drag Logan away from the dinner room, think up some excuse. We can use that time to at least get some of us out, try to figure what the outside worlds doing, if there is one. Then we'll come back and rescue the others later. You don't have an appointment with Dr Xavier tomorrow, do you?'

'Yes, but it's in the evening.'

'Good, I don't know if any of the adults have their powers, but I don't want to risk Xavier reading out thoughts and finding out our plan.'

'What about the Brotherhood,' asked Jean, 'they're here too, can't they help?'

Kitty shook her head, 'it seems like they're, like, totally brainwashed, we can't get through to them at all.'

'Maybe they don't have the telepathic defences we have,' suggested Evan, 'you know, the Professor helped us out a lot with those. Or maybe they're not really the Brotherhood, maybe they're… I don't know, people that have taken their forms or something. Either way, they won't be any help.' 

'So, you know our plan,' said Scott, 'will you help?'

Jean nodded, how could she not?

'Right, remember, don't let on to anyone that you remember who you are, we don't want to arouse any suspicion. We'd better break up now, I'll see you guys tomorrow. Kurt, will you show Jean back to her room?'

The fuzzy elf nodded, and led Jean back through the ducts to her own bedroom. It was funny, before, when she thought she was Margaret Richardson, she had seen Kurt as a normal human. Now, however, she saw his true appearance, his fuzzy, pointy eared, blue, self. Yet… when if she looked in another way, sometimes, she saw him as human, it was impossible to describe it properly. 

She didn't let herself worry about it though, as she lay back down in her soft bed, she thought only of getting a good night's sleep before the trial of tomorrow began. 

The day went smoothly, Jean stayed away from the other X-men, and away from Dr Xavier. She spent much of her time with Lucky and the other Psudo-Brotherhood members. She tried to be interested in what they said, and what they did, but in truth the time crawled by, her stomach constantly tying itself in knots. 

She did, however, learn something interesting. Her telepathy only seemed to work on the other X-men, everyone else was a blank slate to her, she couldn't feel them at all. This was more than a little alarming, and only served to increase her anxiety.

When lunch time had crept upon her, Jean was more concerned with thinking up ways to distract Wolverine, than with eating anything. Then, she had an idea! 

After making an excuse to the others she went to her room, spending a few minutes there until it was nearly 12:40. She was on her way back to the Canteen, hurrying as fast as she could, when she heard the sound of childish laugher ringing through the corridors. 

Looking both ways, she caught a glance of a bare leg, and the hem of a white dress, their owner running round the corner. She jogged after them, trying to catch a better look, but by the time she had rounded the corner, the girl was gone, as if she had never existed. Shaking her head, Jean tried to forget about it, probably just one of the 'new' residents, none of whom she had met properly yet. But the youngest of those was twelve, and even from the very little she had seen of the girl, Jean could tell she could only be about 10 or 11, tops.   

Trying to put the incident behind her, she then ran back to the canteen, feigning worry and fear.

'Mr Logan,' she called, hurrying to the security guard, 'please, I need your help, something has been stolen from my room!' 

'What do you mean?' asked the burly man.

'I had my Walkman in my room this morning, and I went back there a few minutes ago, to get a jumper because I was feeling cold. I noticed that my walkman was gone from where it usually was, on the shelf, and I had a quick look, but I can't find it! And I'm sure I left it on the shelf! Please can you come and look?'

Logan nodded quickly, and, much to Jean's relief, followed her out of the canteen, and down the corridor. They had not gotten far, however, before there was a cashing sound, and screaming from back in the canteen. Logan, snarling, ran back towards the source of the ruckus. Jean cursed, if only they had gotten a little further, he might not have heard. She turned tail and ran back to the canteen also, so she could at least see what was going on, and perhaps help a little. 

All pandemonium had broken out, Scott, Evan and Rogue were battling the other residents, the false Brotherhood of Mutants, whilst Kurt was rolling about on the floor, kicking and punching Mystique, or Nurse Darkholme as she liked to be called here. Just as Jean entered, Kitty broke free of the scuffle, running towards the back wall of the canteen. 

She tried to phase through it, and partly succeeded, but the wall seemed to spit her back out, and she fell, slumping to the floor.

_Or did she simply run into the wall? Phasing's impossible, right?_

Wolverine, meanwhile, had quickly separated Kurt and Mystique, holding the struggling teen tightly, whilst calling up reinforcements.

His request was quickly answered, and a four other guards, plus Dr McCoy. They broke up the fight between the X-men and the Brotherhood, and Dr McCoy went to inspect Kitty and Nurse Darkholme. 

Jean watched, mutely, as the X-men were led away, all fairly passive, they knew they had lost. Only Kurt struggled against his guard, kicking and punching Logan whenever he could. 

Nurse Darkholme, who had regained her wits somewhat, was screaming at him.

'Ben, please, stop, don't' struggle, it's OK, Ben, please, don't fight, it'll be fine.' 

'Nein,' the teen screamed back, 'I'm not Benjamin, I am Kurt Wagner! Stop messing with my head, you bitch! I am Kurt Wagner, I am Kurt Wagner, I am-' 

At this point Dr McCoy slipped a syringe into Kurt's arm, and he ceased struggling, hanging limp in Logan's arms. 

Jean felt tears sting her eyes, and she ran out of the canteen again, hurrying back into her bedroom, trying to forget the sound of Kurt's desperate screams. 

A few hours later, when darkness had claimed the sky outside, Jean dragged her heavy legs to Dr Xavier's office. 

He sat in a large leather chair, his fingers steeped, his eyes hard, staring into hers as if they wanted to dissect every secret she possessed.

'May I sit down, sir?' she asked timidly.

He nodded, and she took a seat in the chair opposite him, unsure of what was to happen next.

'Miss Richardson,' he began, 'I was going to start your treatment today, but something else has come to my attention. Today Mr Logan reported that your Walkman had been stolen, and that you had asked him to leave the canteen, just before the… incident, occurred, so that he could inspect you room. Is that true?'

Jean nodded.

'Miss Richardson, when you came here your parents gave me a full inventory of all your possessions, you do not, in fact, own a Walkman.' 

Jean was silent, she tried to keep both her mind and face unreadable.

'It has also come to my attention,' continued Xavier, 'that you have been seen talking to the Special Cases, also known as the X-men. Is this also true?

Jean said nothing.

'Margaret,' Dr Xavier was earnest now, leaning forward in his chair, closing the distance between them, 'this is important. Those children can be dangerous, both to themselves and to others. You should not spend too much time with them, I know they are fascinating, I know they may seem sincere and friendly but-'

'My name's not Margaret,'

Jean did not know why she said this, it merely came out, burst out of her frustration, fear, and anger. Xavier's reaction was immediate, a flash of confusion crossed his face briefly, followed by a look of true fear. 

'What do you mean?' he asked.

'I am Jean Grey. I'm not sure who you are, I'm not sure what's going on, but at least I know who I am. All the X-men know their identities now, and you can't take that away from us, no matter how hard you try.'

Xavier leaned forward still further, 'please, listen to yourself, Margaret,' he hissed, 'listen, I know that you… you feel that you're this Jean Grey, but you're not. You are Margaret Richardson, and you have been… been brainwashed by those other children, made to think that you're someone else. It's what happened to all of them, they were persuaded by Thomas, and now they totally believe that they're someone else. But it's not too late for you, Margaret, you can still come back, please, don't believe them, I know it's tempting to go into their fantasy world but it's not real! It's a complex lie, a phoney!'

'You're the only phoney here,' spat Jean, 'I don't know what you're trying to accomplish, but you won't do it.'

'I only want you to get better,' cried the Doctor, 'please, listen to yourself, Margaret, listen to who you think you are? A superhero? A super-powered teenager in spandex? Works great in comic books, but this is real life! Think about it, telepathy, teleportation, phasing, optic-blasts, blue-furred demons! It's ridiculous, it could never exist!'

Jean's face remained unreadable.

'Please!' begged Xavier, 'I've lost four students to this already, don't make me lose you! Just talk to me, Margaret, I can help you!'

'But I am Jean Grey,' Jean replied stonily, 'not Margaret Richardson, and until you're ready to explain things to me, to explain why you're doing this to us, then I have nothing to say.'

With this she got up out of the chair and walked out, closing the door behind her. 

Once outside she leaned against the wall, sweat dripping from her face, trying to calm down. Keeping up an iron visage had been hard, and now her stomach was doing tumbles. Her stomach danced even more when she heard Dr Xavier's voice, faint from behind the wall.

'Mr Richardson? Yes, it's Dr Xavier. I'm afraid I have some bad news regarding your daughter.'

*Translated this should be 'good evening my friend,' but I think that I've got the spelling and grammar wrong. A nice person on Internutter's site (which is a must visit in you have even a passing interest in Kurt) gave me the actual translation, but as that's down at the moment you're going to have to put up with bad German. Sorry!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowed, belongs to Marvel et al. See first chapter for more advanced disclaimer. 

Notes: Right guys, here's where things REALLY get interesting, I hope you like. Please, please, please review, it's a bit disappointing only to get two reviews per chapter (one of them by someone who's already read the entire story already, (not that I'm not greatful Scribs, review as much as you like)) So please, if you like this in any way, and want to know what happens next, just type out a couple of words saying so. I want at least three more reviews before I post the next (and final) chapter. 

BTW, rating is the same as last chapter, there's a couple of naughty words here, but that's it. 

Part 3

__Or am I a butterfly…__

That night was hot and sticky, even with the ventilation on. Jean rolled on top of the bed covers, unable to sleep. The stifling atmosphere seemed to pen her in, her head ached, she longed for a cold shower, but knew she was not allowed out of her room past midnight. 

She heard muffled voices outside, curious, she crept out of bed and put her ear to the door. 

It seemed that two nurses were doing the rounds, shuffling past slowly, their voices loud in the echoing corridors. 

'It will be alright, Raven, Dr Xavier is the best in his field, but it may just take time.' Jean recognised the smooth, rich tone of Nurse Munroe.  

'That's fine for you to say, 'Ro, but… it just seems that he's so far way from me now.' This was defiantly Nurse Darkholme's voice, though it was indistinct, as if it's owner was holding back strong emotion.

'Shhh, he's in the best place he could possibly be, with the best help he could possibly get. You're doing all you can.' 

'Am I? He hit me today, he attacked me, he denied my love! He hates his own mother, 'Ro, he hates ME! Why? What did I do that was so wrong? What have I done so evil that my own baby attacks me? What?'

Here Nurse Darkholme's voice disintegrated into babbles and sobs of grief, Nurse Munroe shushed and comforted her, whispering soft, caring words in her ear that Jean could not make out. 

She moved away from the door, and back to her bed, half ashamed at hearing the outburst, and a tinge of doubt nipping at the edges of her troubled mind. 

The hot, clammy atmosphere was still there when Jean woke up. 

Stumbling out of bed, she caught a glance of herself in the dressing table mirror. 

Her hair was dishevelled, her skin seemed paler than usual, dark circles of worry and sleeplessness surrounded her eyes. Last night had been tough, guilt, doubt, and the natural, heavy pressure of the weather had left her an insomniac. Her head throbbed, she yearned for some aspirin. 

But her eyes returned to the reflection, was this the same Margaret Richardson that had entered the institute only two days ago?

No, no, she was not, she was Jean Grey, and X-man, and boy, she as going to pound the person responsible. When she found out who that was, that is, and what was going on in the first place. 

Half an hour and a shower later she wandered apprehensively to the canteen, unsure of what she would encounter. 

What she encountered, indeed, was bacon and eggs. More over, she was gratified to find that almost all the X-men were there, except Kurt. 

Never the less, the breakfast was hardly a happy one, each of the four remaining X-men were kept at separate corners of the room, and Jean herself was gently guided by Nurse Munroe to a seat in the centre, with the other residents. Their reception of her was strained. They were friendly, and talkative, and nervous, they obviously knew about the situation, and had been instructed to bring her back into the herd, or something to that degree. Jean wasn't having any of it. She in tern was polite and pleasant, and very stand-offish. 

She wished she could talk to one of the others, she wanted to know what was happening, what the next plan was, and where exactly Kurt was. She tried sending them telepathic messages, but they didn't seem to receive them, or didn't let on they had been received. She could still feel their emotions, their fear and anxiety, but couldn't contact their deeper thoughts. Was someone messing about with their powers? Preventing them from functioning fully? Had someone been rearranging reality? Or maybe this was all in her head after all, maybe she really was mad?

No, that's not the right way to think, Jean, that's what they want to happen, whoever THEY are. Keep your hopes up, Jean Grey, remember who you are. 

Well, all she could do was wait and see, hope that the others found a way to contact her, to get round the strict observance of the nurses and Logan. She cleaned off her plate and trudged to the girl's toilet, she noticed, with interest, that Scott had left ahead of her.

She was just about to enter the bathroom when a hand grabbed her, she found herself pulled into the boy's toilet, which was just across the hallway from the girl's. 

She managed to swallow a scream when she saw that her assailant was Scott. 

'Sorry,' he breathed, 'but they're watching us like hawks! It's lucky they didn't see me as it is.'

'Sure,' replied Jean, 'what's up? Where's Kurt?'

Scott looked grim, 'he's in the White Room, it's where Xavier puts residents to 'calm down,' it's basically a padded cell, our behaviour last night didn't go down to well. They know you're one of us.' 

'Yeah,' said Jean, 'I'm afraid I told them.'

Scott shrugged, 'it was bound to come out eventually, anyway, we're OK. The only problem is that they're trying to keep us apart, which will make planning our next move difficult.'

'Our next move?' asked Jean sceptically, 'perhaps we should give it a rest for a while, lull them into a false sense of security. As it is… everyone is on their toes, everyone is watching us. I don't know, maybe escape isn't the way.'

Behind his blindfold Jean could see Scott's eyes widen. 

'You can's say that,' he gasped, 'we can't just give up! We need to get out of here, Jean, and soon. Look, I'm not sure about what's going on, but I think that they're trying to break us, trying to brainwash us or something. The longer we stay here, the closer they come to their goal.'

'You seem to be holding up pretty well, though.'

'No, not really. I've seen it, Evan, Rouge, Kitty, they're all getting weaker, all thinking that… that the X-men aren't real, that they really are delusions or something. Hell, I've caught myself thinking it on occasion. But it's Kurt I'm most worried about.'

'Why?'

Scott bit his lip, 'you, me, all the others… we've, well, we've all know what it's like to be normal, to be human. So I guess the idea that this all could be, you know, a fantasy isn't that inconceivable. But Kurt… Kurt's always been blue and fuzzy, he's never been normal, never been human. This idea, that his entire life has been a lie, it's… well to be frank it's breaking him. You can see it, he's so serious all the time, so quiet, he never used to be like that before, remember?'

Yeah, she did, Kurt Wagner, the joker of the X-men, the Fuzzy Dude, the party guy, and she had seen it in is eyes before, now she thought of it, the sadness, the uncertainty, the fear. God, what was it like, to question every facet of your identity? To have your entire existence turned upside down and inside out? 

'Listen,' continued Scott, 'we're going to meet up in the library at lunch time, we can get there using the air ducts. Kurt should be out by then, too. I'll see you there, OK?'

Jean nodded, and Scott stepped out of the bathroom. He looked both ways, checking no one was watching, then beckoned Jean to exit too. With a whispered good-bye, he ran off, leaving Jean on her own, uncertain of what to do next. 

She wandered the twisting corridors aimlessly, exploring the endless confines of the mansion. She had received no news, no instructions, but she knew that things were bound to get hot soon. Xavier wasn't going to sit on his butt doing nothing about her condition, in fact she had a suspicion of what his next actions would be, but she didn't want to contemplate them too much. So instead she tried to keep her mind and body active through exploration. 

It was doing little good, this place was a maze! Her thoughts twisted and tuned along with the passages, it all seemed to strange! She felt so helpless, so unsure! It was odd, as a telepath she had always had a level of surety, a level of security of emotion. Now it seemed gone, stripped from her, and replaced by doubt and fear. Heck, for all she knew she might be crazy! Xavier might be right and she was Margaret Richardson, a young woman with a few problems made worse by other mixed up teenagers. After all, the entire idea, telepathy, telekinesis, mutant powers, it was all absurd, wasn't it?

No, no she mustn't think like that, that was what THEY (whoever they were) wanted her to think. She, and the others, were being played, being fooled. She wasn't sure quite how, but if she was to retain her sanity she had to believe that she was Jean Grey, she had to. Didn't she?

'It's not fair!' 

A small, childish voice spoke up. Jean, who had been too wound up in her own thoughts to pay adequate attention to her surroundings, looked up in astonishment. 

Before her, standing in the middle of the corridor, was a girl, the girl she had glanced before.

She could be no more than nine or ten, her dress was white, pure, unadulterated white, so white it seemed to glow. Her skin was quite pale, and around her head was a bob of soft, black hair, which curled around her jet black eyes. A look of petulance was painted on her pretty features.

'It's not fair!' she said again, her ebony eyes boring into Jean, 'you never play with me any more! You always used to, but now you never do! You're not my friend any more! Why don't you play?'

Jean opened her mouth to give a response, but a voice behind her spoke up.

'Margaret, there you are! Dr Xavier wishes to speak with you in his office.'

Jean turned to see the graceful form of Storm, still in nurse's outfit. 

'Uh, sure, I was just talking to this-'

She turned back, but found the little girl gone, disappeared without a trace, how had that happened? She surely would have heard her running off, and she'd barely turned away for more than a second.

'Talking to who?' asked Nurse Munroe.

'Um… no one, I… I thought… it doesn't matter. So, I guess I should go to see the Prof- I mean Dr Xavier. Um… which way is it to his office, I'm a little lost.' 

Storm smiled benignly, and led Jean back through the corridors until they reached the oak door of the office. Jean took a deep breath, steadying herself for what she knew as to come, and opened the door. 

Her parents and boyfriend where there, waiting for her.

Her mother rushed forward, embracing her in a tearful hug. It was odd, she recognised this woman as her mother, she had the same form, voice, even mannerisms that Jean remembered. But were those memories from Jean or Margaret? Where they genuine or pre-programmed? Or were they both? Did Margaret's mother take the same form as Jean's? Surly a child should remember their own mother, the person who carried them in their womb. The first person they heard, touched, knew…

Damn, it was all so confusing!

For a second Jean was stiff, unyielding to the caress, but she soon melted in it's familiar warmth, and returned it, feeling the familiar love and comfort surround her.

Her father put a heavy arm on her shoulder, unable, constrained by the expectations of society to show his love in the same, expressive way as her mother, but she could see it none the less, see it shining out of his soft eyes. 

And behind them the third person, her beloved watched on. At once worried, unsure, overjoyed and terrified, he stood there. He wanted to hold her too, she knew, but he was willing to let her parents go first, Duncan had always been kind in that way. He had always been kind, in fact, always standing by her, even in the deepest, darkest times of her life. 

Or was this Margaret's memory? Was this Duncan different to the one Jean knew? So confusing. So confusing. 

Her mother pushed her away a little, but gripped her head, forcing Jean to look into her eyes. Tears ran down her mothers cheeks, an almost desperate smile shone on her face.

'I don't know what you're talking about Doctor,' she choked, 'she's fine. She's our Margaret, right? You're still our Margaret.' 

She wanted to cry yes, to lie forever in her mothers arms, to be safe and sure again. She wanted to cry no, to deny the lie, to stand up for what she knew was right, or thought was right. Could she? Could she bring such agony to her mother's face? Could she bite the hand that loved her? Pain tore her apart, split her further in two. 

'I... yes… no… I don't know! Please, please just go!' 

She pulled herself away, tears streaming from her eyes, sobs wracking her body. She turned away from her parents, desperate to shield her self from the tortured expressions, trying to deny their love, trying to deny the pain. 

'I think we should go,' murmured Xavier, 'we'll talk outside.'

'Please,' said Duncan, his deep baritone thundering in Jean/Margaret's senses, 'please, let me talk to her, just for a little. Perhaps if I could speak to her alone… she shouldn't be left by herself at a time like this.' 

Xavier must have silently acceded, for she heard the adults leaving the room, and the door closing behind them. She was alone with Duncan.

He said nothing, he did nothing, he just sat by her, letting her paroxysms of grief work themselves out of her system. 

He slowly, tentatively, put a hand on her shoulder. The stillness was unbearable.

'I'm sorry,' she said at last, 'I… I want to tell you… but I… I just don't know anymore.' 

'Shhhh, shhh, it's OK, I'm here,' his voice was soft and smooth, full of love and understanding. 

'It's just… everyone keeps telling me who I am, and I feel like I'm Jean Grey, it all made sense when Scott told me. And now I… I don't know who I am… I feel like I'm two people, or one person. It's… it's just so confusing. And I don't want to hurt anyone, I don't want you to hate me, but I've got to be true to who I am… whoever that is…'

Duncan was crying now, not harsh, racking sobs, but quiet tears that ran down his broad face. He moved in front of her, and tenderly lifted her chin so she could see him, so she could look into those two, bright blue eyes. 

'Listen to me,' he whispered, 'I don't know what's happening, I can't give you any real answers, none you would believe anyway. But I can promise you this, I love you. I love you as Margaret, I would love you as Jean. I'll always be here for you, no matter which side you choose. But… but if you chose Jean then… then you won't come out of here for a while, and I…  I don't want that to happen, love. I want to be yours, I want to give you children and a home, and all the care I can… but… but  I can't do that for you in here. You need to know that.'

Tears once again had begun to chase their way down Margaret/Jean's face, and she fell into Duncan's arms, gaining what solace she could from his unconditional love. 

He soothed her for a few minutes, allowing the sobs to subside once again. When she emerged from his embrace she kissed him, softly, almost chastely. 

'Duncan,' she whispered, 'tell my parents I'm feeling better now, I want to see them.'

Her fist pounded the wall. It wasn't fair! 

She had talked to the parents, talked to Xavier, told them who she was. She was Margaret Richardson, and she wanted to go home. Her parents had been overjoyed, but the good Doctor had been less receptive. 

'I know you say you're now Margaret Richardson,' he had said, 'but this condition… it is very hard to overcome, you must stay here, to work out your original problems if nothing else. And we must make sure that the… symbiotic, invented persona has truly gone.'

So he had told her parents that she would be home, soon hopefully, but not yet. And they had left with Duncan, a final kiss and hug were all she had to remember them, before she was once again alone with the Doctor.

Anger bubbled within her, as she strode down the corridor, the words of the meeting still echoing in her head. 

'Then what must I do to leave here! I'm Margaret Richardson I… I was confused, I admit that, I-'

'My dear, this may just be a phase, I need to check the persona is gone for good. Besides, you are the first and only pupil of mine to have overcome this disorder, I wish to discover what set this off. More over, I would like to discover more of this fantasy world your little group has created.'

'So… how long will I be in here for?'

'That depends. If you cooperate and show no signs of remission, then only a few weeks. If, on the other hand, you do not, then you could be in here for a lot, lot longer. The first steps are simple. I want you to talk about the fantasy world Thomas created, tell me about the X-men, about their home, their world. The others tend to keep things pent up, to keep their fantasy world a secret, which prevents me from disapproving, and thus treating their fantasy ailment. Are you willing to talk about it?'

She had been silent, part of her had been only too happy to comply, but part of her hadn't. How could she jeopardize the others? How could she give away all the secrets of the X-men? 

So she had said nothing, she had remained silent.

'I see,' said Xavier at last, 'you don't want to talk yet, very well. But talking is the only way out, Margaret, the longer you are silent, the longer you will have to stay here. My door is always open, as is my ear. Return when you are ready to answer some questions.'

And that had been the end of it, she had walked out of the office and strode down the corridor, rage burning in her blood.

What had possessed her! Why hadn't she just come out with it all? Was she so sucked into this stupid, stupid fantasy? Was she so mental that there really was a part of her that believed she was Jean Grey? 

She was nearly out, nearly free, but she had ruined it! 

No, no that wasn't right. THEY had ruined it, THEY had been the cause of all this misery, all this pain. 

Following the twist and turns of the corridors she eventually came to her destination, the Library. 

It was noon, all the 'X-men' were gathered together, even Kurt was there, with Kitty's arm comfortingly placed on his shoulder. 

'Hi Jean,' called Rouge as she entered, and Scott turned his blind-folded eyes in her direction.

'Glad you're here, Jean, we were worried about you. I-'

He got no further, for Margaret stalked forward and slapped him, hard.

'You bastard!' she screamed, 'you ruined my life! You ruined their lives! You made up this own sick little fantasy world to stop you being so lonely, and then you got us to populate if for your own amusement. You didn't care how much you ruined our lives, you don't care about us at all! You sad, lonely bastard! I hope you rot in hell! I don't care about all this… these… lies you've created, I don't give a crap about the X-men or these mutants or anything because it doesn't exist! I want to be normal, Thomas, normal, not some mixed up freak like you.'

Thomas said nothing, he could say nothing, his jaw almost touched the ground, and it was a similar story for the other mixed up kids in the room. 

Margaret could not help but think how ridiculous he looked with that blindfold on, she brought her hand up again, and Thomas flinched, expecting another blow. Instead she tore the cloth from his face, flinging it across the room, and stared straight into his eyes. 

'See,' she growled, 'there isn't a need for any of these stupid lies, take that fluffy blindfold off and the world's a lot better place.'

She swung round now, facing Suzy, she leapt forward and, before the Goth could react, placed both hands on the sides of her head, making skin to skin contact.

'Why are you so afraid of other people that you do this to yourselves! Why to you pretend your more freakish than you are? See, where's the absorbing Suzy? Where's the power? It's just touching, that's all. Why deny yourself something like that?'

'Je-Jean…' the stammering voice came from Benjamin, 'I know… I know you're going thorough a crisis but if we just talk about it, I'm sure we can work though it. I know you're scared, I am too but-'

His soft voice was silenced when Margaret put a finger to his lips, 'Benjamin,' she said softly, 'Benjamin, why do you do this to yourself? You're a sweet, tender kid, you could have everything. Why do you pretend you're a freak when your not? I used to feel pity for you, Benjamin, that's what got me into this mess to start with. Now? Now I only feel disgust, that someone could put themselves though such hell, could put their family through hell, just for a bit of attention.'

She took hold of one of his hands, 'you're human, you have five fingers,' she gripped the hand and splayed the fingers apart, out of their customary Vulcan salute position, 'deal with it.' 

She released him, and stood back to survey her handy work. Thomas crawled across the floor, eyes closed, trying to find his blindfold. Suzy had her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. Benjamin stood, gaping, gazing at his spread fingers. Then he laughed.

'Hahahahaha, stupid freak isn't a freak! Freakish for thinking so. All these fingers… all these stupid fingers, too many to deal with? What's three minus five? Why aren't I blue? I'm so cold without fur! What's a freak who isn't a freak thinking he's a freak? What am I? Vas? Vas? Vas!!!' 

He fell into hysterics, laughing, screaming and crying intermittently, his body shaking, and his eyes wild. Thomas began trying to get him to calm down, whilst still trying to find his stupid blindfold. Suzy was deep in shock, and Jenny and Adam just stared on, not knowing what to do. 

Margaret turned her back on them, striding down the hallways. She soon passed Logan, undoubtedly searching for the source of the screaming, which was still echoing down the corridors. 

'They're in the library,' said Margaret as she passed, 'if I were you I'd block up the ventilation system, that's how they've been getting around.'

With not a word more, she strode past, leaving Logan to sort things out. She felt suddenly… powerful, whole, complete. Her entire body was relaxed, this was what she was supposed to be doing, this was who she was. For the first time in many days, she felt at peace.

She soon reached the solid oak door of Dr Xavier's office, which looked more friendly than it ever had before. 

She opened it 'Dr Xavier,' she said, 'I'm ready to talk now.'


	4. Chapter 4

Yay! I'm wanted! Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reviews, I hope these final chapters live up to them. Please tell me what you think, I'd be really grateful!

Disclaimer: This isn't mine, I'm just using the characters/setting for enjoyment, you know the deal. See chap one for a more detailed disclaimer

NOTE: Just in case I have problems, it is worth knowing that one of the sequences here is all in italics, which signifies  it as a memory. If it doesn't show up as being italics then it is not my fault, it is just some crazy FFN setting. 

Part 4

__...dreaming I'm a man?_­_

She sat in front of Xavier, he shuffled paper, sorting out note taking equipment. Then he asked his first question.

'Who are the X-men? What is their goal? What is their mission?'

She replied, smoothly, easily, the words gushing out of her mouth like a cleansing steam.

'Who are their enemies? What are their abilities? What do they represent that makes you hate them so much?'

Again she answered giving as much detail as she could, the Jugganaught, Sabertooth, Magneto, the Brotherhood, each were laid out bare before Xavier, available for his deconstruction.

'And what of yourselves, what are your exact powers? Your strengths, your weaknesses?'

She spoke of Kurt's teleportation, and the vast amounts of food he needed to keep up is energy. She told of Scott's eye blasts, and how uncontrolled they were. She explained Spyke's bone growths, and the calcium needed to replete them. All these she described, and more besides, until her throat was raw and her head once again began to ache. 

'What of the mansion? What makes it so… so strong that your enemies cannot enter it? What are it's defences?'

Margaret found herself frowning at this point, 'why do you want to know that?' she asked, trying to push past the layer of drowsy, fatigue induced fluff that had gathered in her mind.

Xavier seemed to pause for thought before answering, 'I believe the mansion is a… metaphor for your mind. By understanding and deconstructing its defences I can metaphorically discover the defences in the other students' minds which is preventing me from bringing them back to reality. The mansion represents their make-believe world of super heroes and villains, by entering and sabotaging it I can draw them back into the real world.'

Something about that explanation was… wrong, for some reason she couldn't buy it.

Probably paranoia induced by weariness, probably her over active imagination, probably just a bit of the Jean personality hanging on. Probably.

'I'm sorry,' she said, 'I… I'm very tired, can we continue the questioning tomorrow?' 

Xavier nodded reluctantly, and waved a hand, signalling that she could leave. She was about to, when a thought occurred to her.

'Can I see your notes?' she asked, 'I'd like to check what you've written? Perhaps I can correct it, add more details that way?'

The Doctor shrugged, and passed her the reams of paper he had scrawled on. She flicked through them idly looking for… she didn't know what… until it caught her eye. 

"-main enemy seems to be Erik Lehnsherr, AKA Magneto, maybe symbolises opposite to X-men. Not tolerant. Symbolises?-"

'His name…' she murmured.

'What?' 

'Erik Lehnsherr, Magneto, you spelt his name right. With a K, not a C, most people spell Erik with a C, but you didn't.'

'So, I hardly think it matters.'

'But… that's the correct way of writing it, I remember seeing it in the… in the Professor's files. How did you know it was spelt with a K?'

'I… one of the students told me.'

'Really, just by the by? You said none of them had talked to you yet? I mean properly talked. How did you know the spelling?'

'I guessed it, um, several of the other adults, such as myself, seem to share names and appearances with those in your fantasy. One of the… one of the maintenance workers here is called Erik, with a K, and he-'

'You're changing your story, you're grabbing at straws. You're lying!'

Venom was pored into that word, and the bitter truth filled Jean's mind. 

'You're playing with me. I was right the first time. Oh god! I AM Jean Grey! I AM JEAN GREY!'

'Please, Margaret,' begged Dr Xavier, 'calm down! I'll call for assistance, you can't let the persona overtake your-'

'No! NO, NO, NO! I won't listen to you! I don't know what's happening but this is a lie! It's all lies!'

The world seemed to fracture for her then. Jean/Margaret's mind, it spun and cracked and fell apart. She was Jean and she was Margaret! Yet she was neither, and yet she was one. What was she? This world… it was false, unreal, a haze of lies and deceptions, this she now knew. It had nipped at the edges of her mind for days now, but surety had washed into her mind with a simple spelling mistake, or spelling correction. 

Yet the other world, the world of super powers and villains, or mutants and demons, of everything bizarre and weird and freakish, that also seemed so absurd, so unreal. She couldn't accept that? Could she?

She had to escape, had to think on her own, without anyone screaming in her ear, telling her what was right and wrong, making her choose realities.

No, no there was no escape, no time alone, she was trapped, trapped forever. 

Anger, frustration, fatigue, hopelessness, it all tumbled down upon her, blinding her, invigorating her, sending her truly mad. 

HE was the source of it all, Doctor Xavier was the puppet that pulled the strings, the head torturer, the mad man who ran the asylum. The world turned red.

Barely conscious of her own movements, Jean/Margaret leapt at him, her hands wrapped round his throat, he struggled, called out. 

Logan entered. Grabbed her. Struggling to hold onto HIS neck, couldn't. Hands pried away by Logan's large, powerful arms. Kicking. Screaming. Swearing. 

'She must calm down,' Xavier said. 

She was pulled away. Back through twisted corridors. No pattern, no sense. They came to another door, large, cold, mettle. She was pushed inside. No pain. The floor and walls were soft. White, blinding white room. 

The door slammed behind her. 

The red haze in front of her eyes receded somewhat, and Jean/Margaret saw that she was in the White Room 

She leaped towards the closed door, scraping her hands along it, trying to pry it open, She did not, of course, succeed. The anger was not gone, the fear was not gone, and the uncertainty grew ever stronger. She slammed against the padded walls, kicking, screaming, sobbing. 

Eventually, bruised in body, torn in mind, wretched in soul, she fell to the floor. Her screams became intelligible, as she rocked herself back and forth, sobbing, trying to find answers.

'Who am I?' she cried softly, despair finally claiming her, 'who am I?'

'You're Jean Grey of course.' 

The answer was unexpected, to say the least, and she turned to see the girl. Her dress, unblemished snow, her eyes black jet, her skin touched with coral pink.

'Not that you'll remember who I am, you never do! All this time, all this closeness and you don't even know who I am anymore. It's not fair!' 

Tears drying on her cheek, Jean slowly crawled towards the girl, careful not to let her eyes wander, lest the girl disappear again. 

'Please,' she whispered, 'tell me… who are you?' 

The girl pouted even more, looking close to tears herself, now. 

'See,' she wined, 'if you don't know who I am, how are you to know who you are?'

'I… I don't understand, please… I just want some answers; I just want to be normal.' 

The girl's look was now pitying 'that's your problem, Jeanie, that's why you're still here. You're not normal, no one is. Not all answers come in straight lines. You have all the answers already, you just won't accept them, just like the way you won't accept me.' 

Sobs wrecked Jean's body; tears once again flowed freely from her eyes, 'please… please… I just want to know who… who I am… who you are… please… please!'

'Jeanie, you already know, just let yourself remember, Jean, remember…'

'But…'

'Remember!'

__She was running after Annie, the sun was bright, the street busy, spring, the time of rebirth, had come. Chase was a grand came, even if the grown-ups didn't like them playing it in the street, but what did they know? They were coming to a busy road now, should stop, mommy says cars are dangerous. But Annie's looking back, to see if I'm catching up, she doest realize that she's run out into the road, doesn't see the car. NO! The car hits her, sends her flying into the air, her white dress floats about he fragile form, like wings, blood scatters, shining rubies in the bright sun. She lands not half as gracefully as she flies, her dress smeared in blood. I reach her first; of course, I hold her, her eyes are dimming. Why? Why? She looks into my eyes, 'I'm scared Jean,' she whispers, she's alone, she doesn't want to die, but she feels no pain. I know. I feel her. I feel all of her emotions. This is good, she can't be alone now. The rush of memories, the thrill of emotions, it's wonderful, scary, fantastic. The light leaves her dark eyes, she dies in my arms. I feel it. I feel her die._

_I feel her die!_

_I_

_Feel_

_Her_

_Die!_

_The world explodes before my eyes. I know nothing will ever be the same again._ _

New tears dripped from Jean's eyes, she remembered. God, she'd forgotten how much that hurt, she'd forgotten most of it, really. 

'I'm sorry,' she murmured to Annie, who still stood before her, smiling a little now. 

Other memories assaulted Jean; these hadn't been buried so deep, but were still mental sores that she never allowed herself to linger on.

After the accident she couldn't turn her power off, wrecked with guilt, fear, confusion, and the dreadful pain of her best friends death, she retreated into herself. Depression was the order of the day, and when her telekinetic skills came into fruitarian, it seemed like the entire world was going crazy. Her parents feared for her sanity, there were even thoughts about sending her to a mental home, which only fuelled the fear, confusion, and negativity which assaulted Jean every day, from within and without. Perhaps she would have gone mad, had it not been for the Professor. He came one day, with soft words and gentle explanations; he seemed to make sense of so much. He helped her create barriers in her mind, to control her telepathy. He taught her to control her abilities, took her out of a mad spiral of despair, and led her into the fields of normality once again. 

And from there to the X-men where, despite it all, she struggled to maintain that normality, to remain sane, to be the steady rock in the churning ocean.

There had been a price, the memories, the pain, it had been too much. She had used her powers to block them, to hold them back. She couldn't face such death, such confusion, such madness. She just wanted to be normal. She WAS normal, she WAS well adjusted, and so away the memories went, packed into a shadowy corner of her mind, scabbed over cuts that should not be touched.

'Annie…' she whispered 'I thought you were dead.'

'I am,' replied the little girl casually, 'or rather Annie is dead. Most of her, at any rate. It's difficult to understand. When she died… part of her mind remained with you. That's part of what I'm made up of.'

'Part?'

'Yeah, I think bits of you also made me, by making yourself, forget Annie, by trying so hard to be normal and denying who you are, I think you created me. Weird, huh?' 

'But why am I here?' asked Jean, 'why am I in this nut house? What's happening?'

Another mysterious smile from Annie, 'like I said, you know already. If you're willing to accept the answers.' 

Jean frowned, and set her mind back, reaching out, trying to remember…

Yes, there had been the kidnapping, Magneto, Mastermind, attacking them after school, they hadn't stood a chance. They had taken them to a… to a base. Yes, and then… and then…

Jean growled in frustration, it was all a blank, she could remember nothing after the attack. She looked imploringly at Annie.

'He wants information out of you,' replied Annie, 'Magneto wants to learn the secrets of the X-men. So he built a special machine and employed Mastermind to create this.' 

She gestured to the surrounding area, 'it's all in your mind,' she continued 'he created this mental image, created false characters, false memories, but made sure not to erase the existing ones, so that you'd remember both, to some extent or another. This place is a nightmare of your own creation, designed to inspire doubt and confusion and eventually even madness. As the 'Xavier' of this world asks you question as you talk, to each other and the creations of this world, you give away your secrets. Eventually he will know everything about the X-men.'

'Subtle,' murmured Jean, 'but what about our powers? They shouldn't work at all, but they do even if the world rearranges itself to pretend they don't. That's what happening, right?'

'Nearly, the reason why you 'see' your powers working is because this… fantasy doesn't affect all of your mental functions. When you use your powers you believe you use your powers, so you visualise using your powers, and then Magneto rearranges the world to change so that it seems you do not. It's probably another trick to make you doubt your own sanity. And doubt is your greatest enemy.'

'What do you mean?'

'The more your doubt your powers, the less they work. The more you doubt your own existence, your real existence, the more real this one, the false one, becomes. You begin to think that you really are insane, so you go to Xavier to talk about your problems, so Magneto gets more information.'

'Damn, it's a vicious circle,' murmured Jean, 'the more we doubt our selves, the more entrenched in this world we become, the more entrenched we become, the more we doubt ourselves. And god knows what damage I've done to the others. That's probably why I could split Kurt's hands like that, he was doubting himself so much that he even perceived them as splitting! Damn! How do we get out of this? If we still have our powers, even though we don't believe we can use them, then I still have my telepathy. But that's seemed so… so weak… and it's not something Magneto can alter, because it's not of this world.' 

Jean was pacing now, her mind working though the problem, 'I suppose this explains why I had a fuller false past than anyone else, I'm more of a threat to this make-believe world, and I'm the only one who can break out of it. But how? And why didn't I use my telepathic abilities before? Was it because of doubt? I've doubted who… what I am for all my life. I've tried so hard to be normal, I've never fully accepted my powers, I've always doubted who and what I am. If this place feeds of doubt then that's why my powers don't seem to work. I doubt that I can, so I can't. If I accept my telepath, if I let myself use it, then I CAN use it. All I have to do is believe I'm a telepath and-'

'And you can break out of here,' finished Annie 'yeah, that's all you need to do. And you can do it now. You can push past Mastermind and Magneto's illusions and mind play, and you can be free. Then you can forget about me again and… just carry on as normal.'

Tears sprang into being at the corners of Annie's eyes as she said this; she lowered her head, her fists clenched at her sides. 

'You never play with me,' she continued, in a choked voice which almost broke Jean's heart, 'I… Annie died so that you might have this power, this amazing power, and you ignore it. Yeah, you use it when you have to, but you don't accept it. You don't play with it or enjoy it the way the others do, you're so concerned with being accepted by other, 'normal' people that you forget who you are. You forget about me.' 

Jean bend down, sitting herself so that she was on the same level as Annie. 

'I'm sorry,' she whispered, 'I was just so scared, I… I didn't want my life to change that way. I was wrong to ignore you, and my powers, but I won't do it again. You're my best friend, Annie, I'm not afraid while you're about. And I won't be afraid of my powers either, not while I remember what you did to give them to me.'

The little girl drew a hand up to her face, wiping away her tears, then she gave a gap-toothed smile, and Jean knew everything was going to be OK.

Annie stuck out a small, pale hand, 'wanna come play, Jeanie?' she asked.

'Any time, Annie,' replied Jean, taking her hand, 'any time.'

Annie laughed, and her white dress glowed so bright that it filled Jean's sight. The laugher rang out loud until it filled her ears, she pushed out with her telepathy and for the second time in her life, her world exploded. 

The steady hum of machinery filled replaced the lingering reverberations of Annie's laugher and even with her eyes closed, Jean detected that the room was full of a bright, white light. 

Reaching out with her mind, Jean detected seven other people in the room, five belonged to the other X-men, one she detected as Mastermind, the other… the other was hidden, barely detectable, but she recognised it none the less. It was Magneto. 

Surprise was her only advantage, and she must use that advantage well. 

They seemed to have detected that something was wrong, urgency filled their thoughts, she heard control buttons beep, felt the tendrils of telepathic power once again tingle on the edges of her thoughts. 

They were distracted, now was her chance. 

Rising up, she called up her telekinesis, a lose piece of machinery slammed into Mastermind, knocking him unconscious. Straining her abilities, she also picked up Magneto, slamming him against the wall, hoping to knock him out too, or at least stun him. 

She succeeded in the latter option, which gave her time to telekinetically snap the wires and cables attached to herself and the other X-men. The machinery which had kept them in that crazy fantasy world was gone, they awoke, each in different states of awareness and shock. 

Kurt curled up into a fatal ball almost immediately, but Scott came to his senses instantaneously. 

With amazing swiftness and presents of mind, he sent an optic blast flying towards the now recovering Magneto. The master of magnetism managed to put up a magnetic shield around himself, saving himself from injury. But he was unprepared, slightly confused and bewildered, he was facing six, angry X-men, with one henchman already down. He did the smartest thing to do at the time, and retreated.

'Hurry,' gasped Jean to the assembled X-men, 'it's only a temporary retreat, once he's gathered his forces together he'll be back, and we all know that we can't defeat him, even together.'

The X-men did as they were told, working on automatic instinct more than anything, they were still confused by their interchange from one reality to another. 

Luck must have been smiling upon them, though, for they soon found an exit to the base. Kitty phased them all through it, and from there they rushed into a near by wood.

They lay in hiding there for many hours, and might have had to remain there for longer had Jean not been able to contact the professor. Soon Logan and the X-jet arrived, and took them back home. 

Their real home. 


	5. Epilogue

Disclaimer: This is merely borrowed, not owned. See chap1 for more details. 

Epilogue

Jean Grey wandered the familiar hallways of the Xavier institute, treading their familiar carpet on the way to a meeting with Xavier. She paid little attention to her surroundings, instead taking the time to ponder the events of the last few days.

The Professor, Beast, Storm, even Logan had been overjoyed at their return. They had searched far and wide for them within the six days they had been missing, but Magneto's technology must have hidden their mental signatures for not even cerebro could locate them. 

Now, however, they were back and physically they none the worse for wear, mentally was a different story. 

Over the last few days they had all been to see Xavier, some more than others. Going though a simulation that makes you doubt your entire identity is not necessarily something one can just walk away from. But they were all healing, they were all accepting reality again, for all its weirdness, and things were returning to the way they had been, except for one thing. 

Jean had the feeling they were avoiding her. 

She wasn't sure, she could be wrong, she could be being paranoid. It wasn't as if she hung out with them more or less than she used to, but she had never tried to hang out with them much before, she had always been more interested in the 'normal' clubs at school. Recently, though, she had been attempting to spend more time with her teem mates, and it didn't seem to be going well. 

She could be sure of her suspicions, if she reached out with her telepathy. But just because she had found a new freedom and security in her powers, didn't mean she was going to abuse them, and entering some one's mind without permission was defiantly an abuse of powers. 

She would not blame them if they were avoiding her, she deserved it, after all. Her outburst in the fantasy world, when she had been sure she was Margaret Richardson, had no doubt alienated herself from them, not to mention causing them much pain. 

Still, perhaps in time that pain would fade, perhaps in time they would forgive her…

'Guten tag Jean!' 

She looked up to see the familiar, blue furred form of Kurt exiting the Professor's study. He had been a regular visitor there, coming more than anyone else, the events in the imaginary world had hurt and disturbed him deeply.

'Hi Kurt,' said Jean, feeling a little self conscious, 'how are you holding up?'

'Fine,' replied Kurt, 'just fine, uh, I'm going to get a snack in the kitchen see you later!'

'Sure Kurt,' murmured Jean sadly, as the blue mutant wandered off.

Perhaps his hearing was better than she thought, or perhaps it was something the professor had said, or maybe it was just a random strike of guilt, but after a few steps Kurt stopped, and turned round.

'Jean…' he called, just as her hand was raised to knock on Xavier's door, 'there's something you should know…'

'Yes?' replied Jean, expecting some sort of recrimination. 

'It's just… I'm sorry... for avoiding you. I… what happened hurt me a lot, but it also hurt you or your wouldn't have said those things. And, well, I understand why you did it and I don't hate you for it or anything, none of us do, we just… we just hurt a little. But punishing you for that will do no good and we can't have these splits when there are enough people against us anyway. I don't want anyone to feel guilty. I just want us to be friends again, if that's OK.'

'Kurt,' said Jean softly, 'thank you, you're one in a million.'

'No kidding!' laughed Kurt, gesturing to his fuzzy blue self, 'and proud of it, too!' 

Laughing the fuzzy elf turned back round and galloped though the hallways, no doubt in search of a fridge to raid and pillage. 

With a soft chuckle Jean knocked on the study door, and was telepathically urged in by the Professor.

'Ah, Jean,' he said, 'how are you?'

'As well as can be expected,' she replied.

'Yes… yes I believe you are,' murmured Xavier, 'it is odd, the others came out… scarred by these events, you, however, seem to have come out healed.'

'I did have help.'

'Indeed. How is Annie?'

'She's still in here,' said Jean, tapping the side of her head, 'though not as a separate entity, she is part of my… my psyche, part of me now I have learnt to accept her.'

Xavier nodded, 'do you really think she was a part of your friend that died? A legacy of a mental signature embossed on your brain through stress?' he asked.

Jean sat down, and steeped her fingers in a manner much like the professor 'yes,' she said at last, 'some of her was, but some of her was also r the personification of my powers, which I denied myself for so long.'

'But are no longer doing so, I see. Logan reports that your performance in the Danger Room has gone up 25 percent, and I have noticed an increase in your use of telekinesis. Storm says she saw you flying in the wood, last night.'

'It's true,' laughed Jean, 'I have been enjoying my power more, and why not? You're always telling us that they're gifts, not curses. Unless we turn them into one, that is.'

'True, true,' the Professor admitted, and they once again fell into silence, two telepaths who knew that no words were needed at this time. 

Eventually Jean spoke, 'any news on Logan's mission?'

'Yes,' replied Xavier, 'he reported in just a few hours ago. The base is still there, but Magneto and Mastermind are not. Much of the computer equipment has also been ripped out, all that is left now is a hollow shell. It was, in short, just how I expected it would be.'

Jean frowned, 'then the machine that created the fantasy world still exists. Could he use it on us again?'

'Could? Yes. Would? No,' said Xavier, shaking his head, 'that is a trick that will only work once, and Erik knows it. He may try it on others, I suppose, but he is more likely to explore other options, other plans, before he does so. Erik always had problems sticking to a single plan. No, I do not think we need overly concern ourselves with that possibility.'

'Good, I'm very relieved. Now, if there's nothing else?'

'No, I just wanted to check up on how you were. Come to me if you want to talk about anything.' 

'Of course professor.' 

Jean arose out of the chair and made her way to the door, then she turned, a sudden thought entering her head.

'Professor,' she said, 'um… I was wondering…'

'Yes Jean?'

'Do you remember when I first came here, just after Scott, and you were talking about giving me a code name?' 

'Yes.'

'And I said I didn't want one because I thought it was… silly. Well, I've changed my mind.'

'Really?' Xavier raised one slender eyebrow, 'what name were you thinking of?'

'I don't know yet. Our code names should reflect what our power is, and who we are. Despite being here so long, I feel like I'm only just coming to terms with these things. When I have a better idea, then I'll chose a code-name, for now… for now I'd like to wait. I'm just telling you, that's all.'

'Thank you Jean,' said Xavier, smiling broadly, 'that's very wise of you, you've grown up a lot, and I wish you luck.' 

Jean also grinned, and she exited the Professor's study.

The first day of the rest of her life was still long, and there was much to do. Perhaps she would invite the others to a game of all-powers-basketball. 

A smile on her lips, Jean Grey wandered out into a decidedly abnormal, but very beautiful world.

THE END 

There, all finished. Reviews giving your opinions would be loved, cherished and adored. So please, please, please find time just to write a couple of words down saying what you thought. If my writing as given you an ounce of pleasure, give me an ounce of pleasure back by passing on a review. Thank you.


End file.
